


city-wide loneliness.

by Bounteous



Series: let me lie beneath myself. [2]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash-centric, Bittersweet, Depression, Recovery, Slice of Life, Therapy, Writer Ash Lynx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bounteous/pseuds/Bounteous
Summary: Aslan reflects on life with Eiji and life without.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Series: let me lie beneath myself. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068368
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	city-wide loneliness.

**Author's Note:**

> the city of sin.
> 
> cigar smoke dancing  
> in my lungs  
> the city’s vices on display  
> for everyone to see  
> the music loud  
> the people in a daze  
> high off life’s drug  
> some pretending to be happy  
> most of all everyone  
> trying to escape their daily woes  
> i suppose i’m sort of like them  
> whatever it is that’s been  
> weighing me down  
> i needed to get away  
> and this is it  
> me among family  
> me, filled with peace
> 
> -'a beautiful composition of broken' by r.h. Sin

Aslan is smart. Legitimately, with an IQ of 200—or something around that number.

He doesn’t know why he expected therapy to magically fix the broken parts of him.

He doesn’t know why he’s so angry that he has to fix himself. Or why he’s beginning to leave each session more irritated than the last with the ridiculous homework he’s been given.

Other people broke him. Why must he be responsible for picking up the pieces? 

He struggled for so long admitting to his therapist his life-story. He hadn’t quite realized how...traumatic his journey has been. There are even events, people, specific memories he only remembers deep within their conversations when his dam has broken and he lets the dirtied water run free. 

Those are things he never wants Eiji to know. 

The talking helps. Probably because the logical side of his mind is glad the person he talks to is licensed to handle people like him. 

Sympathy makes Aslan uncomfortable. He already tells himself to suck it up. This lady with streaks of grey in her black hair and crow’s feet peeking from behind her metal glasses and years’ worth of psychiatric knowledge emanating from her demeanor is a nice median. 

She looks exactly like everything she is, and that’s a strangely calming fact he’s only just realized. 

But he’s plateauing now. And developing unhealthy coping mechanisms as a result of the monotony.

Eiji’s found a steady income in freelancing with his photography now. Theoretically, he could sleep in, take a two-hour long lunch like the French, and be home at a different time every night, but he claims the 9-5 keeps him sane. Whether he has a scheduled shoot or not, Eiji’s out most of the day, leaving Aslan to his own devices. 

He’d begun tutoring for cash and writing as a personal hobby after his therapist gave him a to-do list of one, single demand: relax. School is on a break and the flow of inspiration has been lacking as of late. 

Aslan has never been out without Eiji before. At first, the reason was abjectly plausible. He was still in the early process of learning to speak Japanese and Eiji’s fluency made things easier. Now, however, Aslan panics. No. That’s not true. He hasn’t panicked yet because he’s never been without Eiji. He’s afraid to panic. 

The shame drips like saline.

Sitting in this empty apartment in front of an empty document, head so loud he wishes all those years of gunshots had ruptured his eardrums, Aslan decides he needs to get out. 

He’s half a block down the street before he realizes what he’s done.

He should turn back before he gets himself lost. Lost. Part of him finds the thought appealing. 

It’s not as if he couldn’t find his own way back eventually. Just—he wouldn’t be back before Eiji comes home,  _ ‘tadaima!’ _ released from his lips like a flower blooming in spring only to find a choking silence in reply. 

Aslan can imagine the same sort of fear and sadness blazing through those dark eyes as the night he thought might be their last…

He shakes his head, ruffling the blond hair like a cat out of the water, to rid himself of those thoughts. 

He continues onward.

Walks are supposed to be nice, calming. Old people go on walks often. Why would old people bother waking their achy joints for a morning stroll if they weren’t nice? 

Aslan feels more restless with each step. Feels like he wants his foot to sink into the concrete to be swallowed up whole. 

He plows forward, shoving his fits into the pockets of his jacket. 

He stops.

His left hand pulls out a crumpled package of brand-new cigarettes and a nearly empty lighter. 

Aslan hasn’t smoked since he was sixteen.

He realizes he hasn’t worn this particular jacket since he was sixteen.

One shrug later, he’s unwrapping the box and taking out an expired stick to light between his lips. The crunch of the menthol is a soothing sound he hasn’t heard in forever. And the fit of coughing after inhaling once is an old friend.

His walk is better paced now.

Aslan recalls Eiji saying there’s a park near their apartment. At half-past-noon on a Wednesday afternoon, the kinds of people there are stern fathers, loving mothers, and wild children. 

How quaint. He suddenly feels nauseous. 

Further along, past the playground and a long stretch of freshly-mowed grass, is a basketball court where upbeat music, heavy with bass, is echoing in the air. 

Aslan can’t quite discern the foreign lyrics, but the teenagers surrounding their tiny speaker seem to be enjoying themselves without a care in the world. One of them says something and raucous laughter overlays the music. 

He used to get angry at scenes like this. How dare people get to live such carefree lives? Part of him still gets jealous, but he’s rectified those kinds of thoughts with the realization that everyone puts on a front sometimes. Either one of those kids could be pretending their depression doesn’t exist for just a moment.

Stuff like that helps him feel less alone. And he feels so alone sometimes.

Really, he should head back before someone calls the cops on the blond pedophile. 

A shudder runs through him as soon as the thought enters his head. He didn’t mean to say that. He regrets saying that. 

The bit left of his smoke falls from his fingers and becomes helplessly crushed under the toe of Aslan’s converse. 

He blazes his way back home, route instinctually memorized, a bitter taste left in his mouth and in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Support my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing! https://ko-fi.com/bounteous


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